The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-12-18

EsfI mineral and surveyed clalm QUILT me
aiIog cabin, and there, niles away from any
human habitation, lived alone. Far below me-
like thread, was Otto Mears's toll road from
silverton to Ouray-a road that cost forty
thousand dollars mile In clear weather I
" could see the stages whirl along this. or like
line of flies laden mule train pass in single
fle and sometimes. like small ants, heavy
laden burro train. Them reminds of green
teller see, reading about burro
knoekedAoff road by a landslide. Serves 'em
right" said he, 'for taking that heavy fur~si-
toor way up there" He wasn't much spell
ing. and didn't know burro the Colorado
name for donkey. The burro is the salvation
of the mountain miner, for the little creatures
kin walk on the picket edge of nothing and new
er miss foot. and carry load that weighs
more than they do. Far below the toll road the
brown an dark in the shadders
and~silver in the sunlight. meanders through
the valley. How far downf Wall, one place
on that road is cut torn from solid mountain
wall and look down of nine hundred feet It
is a ticklish place, but we gets used to them
things after time.
For six months In winter was snowed-in in
my lonely cabin. I could hear the roar Of the
icy gales through the crashing timber, and once
in q while another sound that you never forget
A fearful roar like a monstrous wave breaking
over jagged rocks and carrying with it noble
ship; there's jar of the airth, snap of trees,
crunching and rumbling. and a thunder of
rolling rocks with queer sense of moving-not
where you may be, but fur off. That's snow
slide It begins on mountain peak, creeping
slow. white mass, gathe1 ing more at every
inch, getting tighter for a clinch. then faster
taking everything in its path, cutting clean
swath like scythe then whirling, roaring, en-
quilting a cabin with shriexing men, OR a bar hid
and sleeping for the winter. Then you under
stand what I mean by moving, FOR the air is
full of it. and it lasts, till with mufled thunder
clap, the whole mass drops down into the valley
miles away.
Then the summer storms, when the lightning
don't seem no further off than a stones throw,
end glares, and blinds and goes streaking ribbons
of fire over the pines, while you're dazed and
deafened by the thunder. Don't that thunder
boom a playing catch across the crags-the
last one sending it back and ali of it kinder con-
densed and held in canyons, and each new roar,
and each past mingling together until
there's very fury of sound like nothing else on
earth.
Agin, one day you see mountain peak, a
gray cloud kinder lowering, low; it's soft and
full of crinkles and rolls like cotton batting all
flung in heap; bymby there's chill in the air
and the gray cloud, now the don't shine on
it; it gets black as ink 1t gets closer and lower,
and all of a sudden turns into sheet of dazzling
silver Now under it is big river coming with
rush and roar faster than avalanche and
-ehurning up rocks. earth. trees. animals and
men in its awful boiling current. That's
cloud burst. 1t swells the water in every
stream in the valley, and the river, beyond
= where the streams empty. goes mad and rushes
misery all along its course
The silence up mountain is awful I've gone
out and yelled jest for the company of an echo.
Then worse than the quiet is the sound of
something walking after night. Sometimes
there's a sinking fourfooted creature like
a monstrous cat, tawny-hued, with the sly
est gait of any animal devil-thats noun
tain lion. Often there's heavier tread and
clumsy creature goes shifting by-a grizzly,
and can't be tanned, nor the little black imp of
his family connection. Then again there's the
sound, but when you look there amt nothing to
make it, that's the worst of all That's ghosts.
My mine is a tunnel a hundred feet into
mountain side, and often towards night when
I'm working hears, tap, tap, tap, soft and low,
but clear preaching. I gifts out then, for
e. them's the mine speerits and don't wanter git
'em agin me. It's funny, amt itl But you just
live up mountain alone and see how you git to
feel after while.
Tive a week. burro train came twenty
: miles from Ouray for my ore. coming up trail
made up to my mine, not three foot wide and
just cut out of the rock and ground Them, and
the man with EN- mighty cheerful to see
after days of silence. Lettersf No, never
had soul to write to me, but newspapers, a
week or a month old, it didn't matter They was
comfort, and me, setting up in that cabin, forgot
by all human creatures, could through them
papers feel the beating heart of the great world.
Last September got the blues SO bad that
quit work day and went down to the toll
road, timing my trip to see the stage pass
and to get from some passenger something to
read. Teller give a book called s'Dombey
and Son" one day. GOSH them old seafaring
fellers was the gamest crowd / ever see. Cut
ties my choice. Ieknow the book by heart. and
Florence and Walter, that shop and Soil ellis is
jest as material as he'd knowed 'em. Why T
set and read that over so much, seemed like
could jest see 'em come inter life, and be real
folks in the freight Like to know Dickens,
the teller that wrote 'en. Dead is he2 Wal,
wal he'll never know what comfort he was
to me. When git the charnce I'm going to lay
wreath of posies where he is planted and tell
him them books he's writ has been moren Cos
pei to miners in the mountins. and I'll say I
come clear from the newest State in the new
world to give him my humble thanks.
Where was IL Oh, the toll road. 1 set
there and smoked my pipe. looking down the
gulch on the Uncapaghre sparkling like silver
cord fur below. and listening to the wind
whispering through the pines, aud then heard
sound. The road is so sun-dried and hard it
echoes. This was sorter pattering and want
no shod creature either. It can't be mountin
lion, says to myself, he wouldn't dare be here.
felt for my gun-revolver. you know-and
then see this was a dorg A Gordon setter
and thoroughbred. White and black, with
the humanest eyes ever see in a animal
called him. and after a survey he come and
seemed friendly enough He was footsore. lean.
and looked like he'd come long way. picked
a cactus thorn out of his paw and want he
grateful. I kept a watch round turn of the
road for his owIfer and pretty soon I see four
r burros heavy loaded, and walking behind them
a youngsh teller. He was tall and broad
shouldered. dressed like we does in rough Clothes
wooden shirt. sombrero and long boots. He
bronzed some, had curly hair, pleasant blue
eyes ard struggling mustache trying hard to